


Handle with Care

by Fiddle_Faddle



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Brief Mind Control, Damian has a lot of feelings, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Timkon, Pining, Unrequited Love, mentions of StephCass - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiddle_Faddle/pseuds/Fiddle_Faddle
Summary: Damian was suffering and it was all Tim's fault.When Tim returned from a lengthy absence, Damian's long repressed attraction to him resurfaced as well. As Damian tried to get it under control again, he found his feelings evolving into something new and terrifying. He had no clue what to do, all he knew was that no one could be allowed to find out about it. Especially not Tim.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne (onesided) - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 244





	Handle with Care

The delicious smell of Alfred’s cooking permeated the dining room. Damian was seated next to Dick who was enthusiastically engaging Cassandra in a story about his last patrol in Blüdhaven. Next to her, Stephanie was doing her best not to burst out laughing at the bewildered look on Cassandra’s face as Dick’s story kept getting wilder and wilder. Damian himself was silently cursing the mandatory family dinner he was being forced to attend. 

Mandatory meaning if you didn’t come, Alfred would be very disappointed with you and no one wanted that. 

Usually they only had these once a month, but they were having an extra one since Tim was back after being with the Titans in San Francisco for the summer. Damian vaguely remembered someone saying something about one of the Titans - he didn’t know nor care who - giving Tim some new training in exchange for skateboarding lessons. Or something foolish like that. Honestly, they acted like they were still Teen Titans rather than Young Adult Titans.

Tim had arrived back to the manor not too long ago and had immediately been whisked away to the Batcave for a medical examination since no one believed him anymore when he said he was uninjured. So now, not only was Damian being forced to attend an extra family dinner, it was being delayed by Tim’s late arrival. Typical. He was beginning to grow bored as well as hungry, especially since Alfred had banned phones at the dinner table. He could be doing literally anything else right about now. 

Just as he was contemplating trying to sneak his phone out under Alfred’s watchful eye, his father stepped into the room followed by Tim. 

Stephanie let out a low whistle. “Wow, Tim! California was good to you.” 

Damian looked up and oh, no… He could see what she meant. Even though Tim was just wearing ripped jeans and what looked like a band t-shirt older than he was, it was obvious that he had seen some sun. His skin, which was usually almost sickly pale, had taken on a healthier glow. It was clear from his arms that he had put a couple more pounds of muscle on his lean frame. The dark bags under his eyes had been replaced by only a light shadow, making his dark blue eyes stand out. Even his shiny black hair, which had been neatly trimmed instead of left as a bird’s nest, looked like it would be softer to the touch than usual.

When Tim sat down on Stephanie’s other side, Damian realized he had been staring and forced himself to look away. 

Damn it, he thought he would have been over his useless teenage hormones by now. As Damian had gotten older, his mutual hatred with Tim had lessened over the years, until it settled into a kind of mutual tolerance by the time he was fourteen. Well, at least they tried for tolerance. They mostly just ignored each other’s existence because otherwise they would end up arguing. And while their arguments no longer involved physical violence, they could still be quite explosive so it was better all-around if they ignored each other. 

Like it or not, they were Batfamily and they had to love each other regardless of whether they actually liked each other or not. If Jason could (mostly) put aside his hatred when necessary, so could Damian. 

Unfortunately, no matter how much he ignored Tim, once puberty had set in his traitorous body had different ideas. Ideas that Damian endeavored to make certain no one would ever discover. Now at eighteen, he had done his very best to put the folly of his youthful attraction aside but, right here at the dinner table, it had decided to rear its ugly head once more. 

Across from him, Stephanie was less interested in hiding her opinions on Tim’s appearance, as she squeezed his arms. “Damn, you actually have biceps now! That training must have been good!”

Tim shrugged her off himself, blushing faintly. “I’ve always had biceps.”

Dick laughed at that. “Yeah, but they’re actually impressive now!”

Tim shot an unamused look Dick’s way. “I only put on like three pounds of muscle.” He grumbled, face turning slightly redder at all the attention.

...And just when had Damian started looking at him again? He surreptitiously switched his gaze to Stephanie instead. Which turned out to not matter at all, as she immediately reached over and pulled up Tim’s shirt asking, “Where else have you put on muscle?” 

Damian got a perfect view of the fact that Tim’s abs had indeed become even more defined, the V-lines of his hips stood out in sharp relief. Damian once again had to tear his vision away, hoping no one had noticed how wide-eyed he had become or how uneven his breathing was. Luckily the two across from him were making enough commotion that no one was paying any attention to Damian, which was fine with him for the moment.

“Steph!” Tim shoved her away and pulled his shirt back down with a weak glare that Stephanie only laughed at. Cassandra rolled her eyes, smiling faintly at their antics. Meanwhile, his father was quietly pretending that they didn’t exist. 

“If you are all quite done behaving like rowdy children, dinner is served.” Alfred chastised as he began putting dishes on the table. Dick laughed again as Stephanie gave Alfred a sheepish smile.

“Tt,” Damian managed faintly in response to the actions of his family. He would be glad for the day Tim was back to his usual sickly complexion that was relatively easier to ignore. 

The rest of the dinner was uneventful and spent in light conversation. Tim seemed unusually relaxed and content as he talked about the training he went through. It was obvious that the time away hadn’t just been good for him physically, but mentally as well. As though learning something new had reinvigorated him. Or maybe it was just because the last three months had been relatively quiet all around. No big Earth threatening disasters for once. Even Gotham had been calm, nothing worse than Two-Face half-heartedly attempting to rob a bank (his father was convinced his old friend was finally coming around).

For whatever reason, the perpetual exhaustion that had always seemed to weigh Tim down had been lifted slightly and his genuine smiles and laughter - that Damian rarely saw - were flowing easily. Damian found his erstwhile attraction pounding against his ribs again, particularly strong, as he spent the entire dinner determinedly looking anywhere but at Tim, and occasionally failing. 

After an entire dinner trying to control his pounding heart, Damian was thrilled when he was finally able to be alone in his bedroom, grateful that it was his night off from patrol for once. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by staring at Tim in his skintight Red Robin suit and make embarrassing mistakes.

It was much later that night, after everyone had left for patrol, that he found himself gasping between the sheets and stroking himself with visions in his mind of Tim on his bed, pulling Damian down on top of him and in between his spread legs, moaning his name. He could vividly imagine how it would feel to have Tim’s soft skin beneath his fingertips, to trace every scar on his body. 

It was in that moment that he realized he might be screwed.

Months later, Tim’s tan had faded but Damian’s desire had remained. Almost as though after being reawakened, it was now stronger than ever. The annoyingly persistent heat would still coil in his belly at even a glance toward the older vigilante, though it lingered and burned in new ways that kind of terrified Damian. For the most part he was successful at ignoring it and Tim in general. 

Except when he was alone in bed, unable to sleep, or when he found himself idly sketching Tim’s likeness… Oh, and he would never admit to the times he spent hidden among the stalactites watching Tim work out in the cave, blasting his infernal punk music and wearing only a muscle tee and shorts. 

Then there were other times that Tim made any attempt at ignoring him nigh impossible. 

Such as when Damian was sitting at the Batcomputer, absently petting Alfred the Cat who was sitting on his lap, trying to work on a case in the Cave. Tim was also in the Cave, supposedly helping Dick make improvements to his motorcycle in the Batgarage. Though from the sounds of things it wasn’t going well for him. Every once in a while, there would be a clattering of various tools and an excessively loud groan of frustration. It was quite… distracting, and he really needed to focus on his case; the Mad Hatter had recently broken out of Arkham again and they needed to know what he was planning.

“Drake, could you cease the insufferable noise you are making!”

And oh, he had made a mistake because when Tim stood and turned to face him there were smudges of oil on his face that should have made him look ridiculous but instead just highlighted his beautiful features. Features which were currently drawn into a scowl. His hair was pulled back with a red bandana and he was wearing a thin gray tank top that was drenched with sweat and clung obscenely to his muscles. He wiped his greasy hands off on his black jeans that somehow fit tightly to his thighs and perfectly defined the muscles there. Damian was so busy trying not to drool that he almost missed what Tim said in reply.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to try to fix the mess that is Dick’s bike without screaming in frustration?” Tim asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s not my problem if a simple machine is too much for you to handle.” Arguing with Tim was pretty much reflex at this point. Damian did tend to use offense as the best defense.

“That’s rich coming from you, brat! When’s the last time you did some real-world labor outside crime fighting?” 

“Just because you waste all your time doing frivolous things, doesn’t mean we all have to. No wonder you are so useless.”

“Useless?! Yeah, right. That’s why Dick specifically asked me for help.”

“He pities you so he gives you easy pointless tasks to make you feel better about yourself!”

“Go to hell, demon! Before I call an exorcist!” Tim snarled, his cheeks were flushed red with anger, a sight that normally made him feel triumphant, but for some reason Damian didn’t feel quite as victorious as usual. He found himself remembering dinner a few months ago, when Tim’s face had been flushed from embarrassment instead of the anger that Damian was much more accustomed to, and how Tim seemed less high strung since his last visit with the Titans. 

“What’s the problem, guys?” Both men turned to see that Dick had arrived during their argument. 

“Nothing,” Damian sighed, suddenly sick of the whole thing. He grabbed the noise canceling headphones like he should have done in the first place, shoved them on his head and got back to work. He was so focused on not thinking about anything related to Tim that he completely missed the bewildered glances the other two men gave him, then each other. Even Alfred looked up at him in confusion. None of them had ever seen the fight leave Damian so quickly.

Ever since the aborted argument in the Batcave a few days ago, Damian and Tim had gone back to the tried and true ‘ignore each other’s existence’ state of being. They both were acting as if the argument never even took place, except Damian couldn’t help thinking about it. Most of the time, arguing with Tim was satisfying and cathartic but this last time left him feeling a little unsure of himself instead. Damian wasn’t certain about what to do with that feeling, never having been one to back down from a challenge before.

He was still wrapped up in his own head, sitting in the kitchen drinking tea after patrol, when Tim came shuffling into the room. Speak of the devil. At this point, Damian shouldn’t even have been surprised at the way his heart jumped when he saw Tim, but the way he looked… 

Tim’s hair was a mess and he was barefoot, wearing only boxer briefs and an oversized black t-shirt falling off one shoulder. The clone’s Superboy shirt, Damian realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach warring with his arousal at Tim’s appearance. The sinking feeling won out when Tim turned toward him and Damian noticed a dark bruise standing out on Tim’s once again pale neck.

“Oh, Damian.” Tim sounded surprised and a little hesitant. “I didn’t think anyone would still be up. Did patrol run long?”

“Not particularly,” Damian shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself, said with a pointed look, “I see the clone is here.”

Tim blushed a bit but squared his shoulders defensively, “He is, not that it’s any of your business.”

“As if I would care about whatever pathetic imbecile you sleep with, Drake.”

“Hey! Kon is a great guy.” Tim defended. 

“Didn’t he hurt you before?” Damian asked, eyebrows knitting together as he thought of broken bones. He knew he should shut up before they got into yet another argument that left him feeling off, but he just couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Tim paused and studied Damian for a second, a sly smile forming on his face. “You know, demon, you should be more careful. It almost sounds like you care.”

Now it was Damian’s turn to blush as he stuttered out a protest. Tim just laughed like he’d gotten him figured out, it made Damian feel like his most closely guarded secrets had been exposed. 

“No, it’s nice to know you can be sweet despite everything.” Damian felt his heartbeat skip at the slight praise before Tim continued, “But don’t worry, things are good between Kon and me. Better than good.”

“Does Father approve?” Damian deflected, refusing to confirm or deny any feelings of worry, for Tim’s safety or otherwise. Not that he really wanted to hear Tim gush more about his boyfriend.

Tim fidgeted, looking uncomfortable for a moment, “Well, you know how Bruce can be…”

Damian gave Tim a nod of understanding, “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

“I will! Eventually…” Tim said quickly. When Damian snickered, he added, “Just you wait, gremlin. One day you’ll have to introduce someone to Bruce and you’ll be miserable.” 

Damian felt his heartbeat spike. God, he didn’t even want to think about that. Tim just smiled at his expression before moving to grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge. It wasn’t until Tim had wished him good night and went back upstairs that Damian realized that the two of them had just had a full conversation without it becoming an argument. He was completely floored for several moments, wondering if he’d lost his touch, before realizing that he wasn’t actually mad about it. It had not been completely terrible to talk to Tim. 

That… wasn’t good, was it? 

Hadn’t he just been sitting in the kitchen moping about an argument between them? And now he was perturbed about their lack of argument? He had a worrying suspicion that his attraction to Tim was tampering with his thoughts.

Damian shook his head. That line of thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere he desired to be. Anyway, he needed to sleep so he could focus on his priorities the next day. The Mad Hatter wasn’t going to catch himself. He stood up, rinsed his cup out in the sink and headed upstairs for bed. At the top of the stairs, he paused for a second and looked down the hall toward Tim’s room. He had to fight a sudden temptation to sneak over and press an ear to the door.

He shook the thought from his head. No. Sleep… he needed sleep.

But once in bed Damian still struggled to fall asleep, the normal tricks and mental exercises that he could usually rely on did nothing for him. His mind kept wandering back to the way Tim had looked in the kitchen, hair mussed up and sleepy, the dark bruise that marred his neck. An accidental peek at the older man’s sexuality. Suddenly, the knowledge that that was probably why Tim had seemed to be in such good spirits lately sent a wave of heat through his veins. 

Sighing to himself, Damian gave in and slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers. In his mind he replaced the shirt Tim had been wearing with one of his own instead of the clone’s, the hickey on his neck with one Damian gave him, his plump lips red from Damian’s mouth. He imagined sliding up behind Tim in the kitchen and pinning him to the counter, one hand on his hip and the other in his hair so he could pull his head to the side and bite at his neck, leaving more marks. Just the thought of Tim whining, begging for more left Damian shuddering with his release.

Now, he could get some much-needed sleep.

It was supposed to be just a simple recon mission, scout out the empty warehouse and look for signs as to what the Mad Hatter was planning. It should have been in and out. So, of course, it went wrong.

“Red Robin, snap out of it!” Damian knew it was useless, the Mad Hatter was using new tech that they hadn’t created defenses against yet. He himself hadn’t been able to overcome the device when it had been forced on him earlier, they’d told him to sit still and the compulsion was too strong for him to fight. They also made Tim tie him down, which was how he had found himself bound to the point of immobility in a random warehouse. He and Tim had been working two separate cases that happened to overlap and led them to the same place, where they had been jumped. 

Now… if he was being honest, he may have had some fantasies of Tim, himself, and some rope before, but this wasn’t how they usually played out.

He idly wondered where Jervis Tetch had even gotten enough competent henchmen to capture both himself and Tim, anyway. Usually his henchmen were only as competent as he was since he was the one controlling their minds, but these people were doing his bidding willingly this time. That was, however, the least of his worries right now. The most pressing concern of the moment was a mind controlled Tim in a stupid hat, eyes glazed over. 

“Tell me Red Robin, who is he?” Tetch asked, gesturing toward Damian, gleeful with anticipation. 

“He is my brother.” Tim replied.

“No, no! What’s his name?”

“Robin.”

“His real name!”

“Robin.”

“Ugh, fine.” Tetch threw his hands up in frustration. “Tell me Batman’s secret identity!”

“Batman.” 

Damian tried hard to keep his laughter in, but could tell he wasn’t entirely successful by the way Tetch whipped around to glare at him. Tim was bypassing the compulsion by technically telling the truth, from a certain point of view.

“Enough of this, who cares who he is, just kill him!” Tetch pouted like a child and pointed at Damian, who swallowed hard. 

He knew there was no way out of this. Maybe if he was Dick or Stephanie then Tim would be able to overcome the mind control through sheer force of will, but just because the two of them had had a singular civil conversation didn’t mean Tim suddenly cared about him or anything. There wasn’t anything Damian could do to escape, either, not with how expertly Tim had tied him down. Nothing that wouldn’t end up endangering Tim, anyway. 

Tim took a jerky step forward. It was almost fitting, poetic really, how his end would come at the hands of the same man he once tried to kill. It just figured that now would be when karma finally decided to catch up with him. 

Trembling fingers encircled his throat, but Damian refused to uselessly plead for his life. He would go to his death with dignity. He looked Tim in his eyes, which were full of unshed tears behind his mask, and tried to lessen the guilt he knew the man would feel when he came back to himself, “It’s okay, Red Robin. I forgive you.”

The tears fell. 

Before Damian even knew what was happening, the hands were gone from his throat and Tim had sucker punched Tetch directly in the face, ripping the stupid hat off his head. Damian watched in shock as he took out the rest of Tetch’s henchmen without even breaking a sweat before he was back at Damian’s side, untying him. 

“Robin! Are you okay!”

“Yes,” Damian said hoarsely, mouth having gone dry. “You?”

“Me?! I could’ve killed you!” Tim exclaimed, “I never would’ve forgiven myself!”

“But you did not kill me…” Damian said, almost disbelievingly. Tim had overcome the mind control just so that he wouldn’t hurt him. Tim cared about him. Tim cared about him enough to overcome the Mad Hatter’s mind control. “And I believe I told you it was okay. It wouldn’t have been your choice.” 

Tim just gave him a haunted look.

Unable to handle the strange moment any longer, the tension between them and the pain in Tim’s eyes, “Tt. Your weak arms would not have had the strength to kill me anyway.”

Tim huffed out an unsteady breath, shaking his head. “You must be fine if you’re trying to insult me again. C’mon man, let’s tie these guys up and call the GCPD.”

Once the police had rounded everyone up and the rest of the loose ends were dealt with, Tim and Damian made their way back to the Cave. Damian was more than ready to put the night behind him and despite his racing thoughts, he fell asleep swiftly. 

Damian knew his attraction to Tim was getting dangerously out of hand, becoming something more than just physical attraction. After the incident with the Mad Hatter, he wasn’t sure he’d had even a moment’s thought about anything other than Tim. Tim’s soft hair, Tim’s long fingers, the pain that had been in Tim’s dark blue eyes, the fact that Tim had overpowered mind control for him. It was enough to drive him insane. He needed to clear his head, get out of the manor for a while and think about something other than Tim. Damian stepped out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“FUCK!” The sound of something hitting the ground resounded in the quiet manor. 

Damian paused on the stairs he was just about to climb down, that sound had come from the hallway leading to Tim’s room. Curiosity (you couldn’t get very far as a bat without that in spades) and a little of what he would never admit was concern got the better of him. He strode down the hallway, and listened at Tim’s door for a moment. When there were no further sounds to indicate danger, he gave a brief knock on the door, and then opened it without waiting for a response. “What is going on in here?”

Tim was sat at his desk with his head in his hands, nothing in the room looked like it had been disturbed other than the tablet that was lying face down on the floor as if it had been knocked off the desk. 

“Nothing.”

“Oh, so you just threw your tablet around for no reason?” Damian asked, stooping to pick up said tablet and turn it on. “Well, you didn’t break it… oh.”

When he had unlocked the tablet, the last thing Tim had been looking at appeared back on the screen. It was an autopsy report for a young man that Tim had saved a few months ago and gotten to go to rehab. He’d had a relapse and subsequently overdosed. Tim had been so excited for the man, he believed that he had a lot of great potential and could really make something of his life if he just had the resources to do so. He had been planning on getting him a job offer if his rehab went well. 

“Dra- Timothy, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” Tim got up and grabbed the tablet out of Damian’s hands and stared down at it, unseeing. “I know that rehab is a difficult process and it’s not a linear uphill battle. There are going to be times when people relapse. I shouldn’t get so worked up over it, these things happen.” Tim’s voice got weaker and weaker as he spoke. “It just sucks. I was really rooting for this guy, but his life was his own and he had difficult choices to make and there’s only so much I can do to help. But maybe if I’d just done a little more...” 

During this half-mumbled ramble Tim had turned his face up toward Damian and he could see just how distraught he looked. His eyes were wide, red rimmed, and filled with tears. He had several crescent shaped marks on his forehead, as though he had been clutching at it with his fingernails.

Without fully thinking through what he was doing, Damian stepped forward and drew Tim up into a tight hug, stopping his rant in its tracks. Tim’s face ended up tucked under Damian’s chin so he felt as well as heard Tim’s gasp turn into a choked off sob.

“You are allowed to get upset over difficult cases, Timothy.” He felt Tim’s trembling arms return the hug just as tightly, clutching at Damian like a lifeline. “Go ahead and mourn this man and the life he could have had.”

“Thanks,” Tim said after a few moments, when his trembling had subsided and he pulled away from the hug. He blinked up at Damian as if he was just now seeing him. “When did you turn into such a good little brother?”

“I do not know what you’re going on about, Drake.” Damian huffed crossing his arms to hide how pleased he was at just a little praise and acceptance from Tim, though he also internally flinched a bit at ‘little brother.’ It just proved that was all Tim saw him as.

Tim gave a weak laugh, grin spreading across his face. “Uh huh, sure. Whatever you say.”

At the smile Tim gave him, Damian felt his heart soar out of his chest and straight into the palm of Tim’s hand. He watched it flutter away in dejection, resigned to his fate. 

Once he was safely behind the wheel of his car - needing to get out of the manor more than ever now - he put his head in his hands. He was unused to this feeling of vulnerability. It felt like the flesh and blood of his heart had been replaced with the thinnest glass, fragile and could shatter at any moment. Tim was the only one who could keep it from breaking, but he didn’t know it was within his power. Wouldn’t have even wanted it to be if he knew. 

Besides, there was no way that Damian would ever let him know, would never allow Tim to have that kind of hold over him. He would never admit to his weakness, not to the one person who could use it against him either intentionally or not. If no one knew, then his heart might crack, but it would never break.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, he just had to go and develop feelings for Tim Drake of all people.

Tim Drake who he used to loathe. Tim Drake who only saw him as a younger sibling. Tim Drake who was already infatuated with another. 

No doubt about it, he was definitely screwed.

Charity galas were, in Damian’s opinion, one of the worst things he was required to suffer through as a Wayne. An entire night wasted, spending it wading through a sea of snobbish, baselessly egotistical wealthy people pretending that they gave a crap about the world, all while showing off in their expensive outfits for the evening that cost more than they would even donate to the cause. It made him sick. However, it was necessary in order to keep up appearances. 

But this particular gala was even more taxing than usual, for one simple reason: Tim. 

Or, as he was tonight, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne of Wayne Enterprises playing up the part as convincingly as his father played his bimbo billionaire role, sharpened to a fine point due to years of experience. Damian rarely caught a glimpse of this side of Tim, all charming and dignified. Usually if there was a gala event one of them would be present while the other was on patrol in the city, but tonight Dick was in town so he and Jason had the city under their control. 

Damian was torn between being jealous of his siblings or thankful. On one hand, he was able to get a glimpse at Tim in a way that he was so often deprived. Tim was simply radiant in his perfectly tailored suit. The sleek black trousers emphasized the shape of his legs even while hiding just how muscular they were. His jacket nipped in just right at the waist and his burgundy shirt made his blue eyes striking in comparison. Alfred had clearly spent quite a bit of time helping Tim tame his hair into submission and it was glorious to behold those perfectly tousled inky black locks. 

On the other hand… now that Damian found he could no longer deny the extent of his feelings, the other man’s perfection almost irked him. He was glad Tim preferred to hang around the house in over-sized sweaters and sweatpants most of the time. If he was this put together more often, Damian might end up embarrassing himself. He might end up embarrassing himself tonight if he wasn’t careful. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering surreptitiously over to Tim from time to time, watching as Tim threw his head back to drain his glass of wine or as Tim laughed at someone’s (probably terrible) joke. As Tim danced with the daughters and sons of influential people, Damian longed to be the one with his arms wrapped around Tim’s lean frame. He cursed those unworthy hands that touched what should be his. 

He was in a relatively quiet corner having just politely excused himself from yet another pointless conversation, when someone spoke from behind him.

“What are you so pouty about?” Stephanie was stood behind him, looking regal in a royal purple gown. Just who he didn’t need right now.

“Tt. I am not pouting.”

“You totally are, have been for days. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine, what’s not going on?” When Damian stiffened at that not exactly inaccurate interpretation of his current situation, Stephanie smiled at him. “Love trouble? Am I right or am I right? It’s your friend Colin, isn’t it?”

Damian flushed at her guess, even if she was wrong about whom. No way in hell was he going to tell Tim’s ex-girlfriend about his feelings for him. “It’s really none of your business, Brown.”

Though, after a little bit of urging and insisting from Stephanie, he gave into her a little. “It does not matter, they are already in a relationship.” 

Stephanie’s eyes softened at that - not with pity or else Damian would just have been even more annoyed - but with understanding. “Oh, yeah. Not really much you can do, then. Except be happy for them, even if you secretly hope their relationship crashes and burns so that you can pick up the pieces.”

Damian laughed quietly at that. “Sounds as though you speak from past experience.”

“Yup, but it’s okay, I'm happier than I could possibly imagine with Cass. So, you know, even if it doesn’t work out, this won’t be the end of the world for you.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. He shook his head in response to cover up his own smaller smile and shooed her away, telling her to go bother her girlfriend. She laughed and complied. 

Later in the night, it became quite clear that Tim had probably allowed himself to have slightly too much wine. Or so Damian thought at least, when Tim saw him and slipped away from the people around him in order to make a beeline straight toward Damian. 

“Enjoying yourself, Damian? I haven’t seen you all night.” Tim’s voice was just a bit too loud, but when he got close enough he grasped at Damian’s bicep and leaned up to whisper, “Save me from these people, please.” 

Damian smirked at that, even as every inch of his body that was in contact with Tim burned like he was being graced by the sun. “Of course. Though it seems you have been enjoying yourself a bit too much.” Damian grabbed the wine glass out of Tim’s hand and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. 

Tim just laughed. “Nah, I’ve only had a few glasses. C’mon. Dance with me.” He took Damian’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together. Damian noticed - somewhat helplessly - Tim’s long and slender fingers, his soft skin, his perfectly manicured nails. So caught up in dangerous thoughts about Tim’s hands, he almost tripped over himself.

As he allowed Tim to pull him toward the dance floor, Damian decided that yes, Tim had indeed had too much to drink and Damian himself hadn’t had enough. “As long as you don’t step all over my feet, Drake.”

“Please, I’m a great dancer.” Tim proceeded to prove that statement to be absolutely correct and Damian allowed himself to have that one moment, to enjoy his hands on Tim and Tim’s hands on him. Pretended that Tim wasn’t tipsy and that he wasn’t dancing with Damian just to avoid the insufferable guests.

“You’re not too bad yourself, gremlin.” Tim said, sounding impressed.

Damian smiled down at him and when he smiled back, pretty lips stained red with wine, Damian felt like he was the one who was drunk. He had to use every ounce of his considerable willpower not to lean down for a kiss.

The moment was absolutely ruined, however, when Tim started talking about the clone and how much he missed him and how he couldn’t wait to see him again. Damian sighed internally. It was too bad that he was unable to truly torment Tim anymore (not now that he knew how good it felt to make him smile) or else he would have been planning his revenge at that very moment. As it was, he decided to take Stephanie’s advice instead and just be happy that Tim was happy. 

By the time another family dinner rolled around, Damian was tempted to face Alfred’s disappointment and just skip it. Another night spent desperately trying not to look at Tim too obviously lest someone figure him out was the last thing he wanted to endure. But at the same time, a chance to discreetly observe Tim in a relaxed setting was also tempting. The memory of the time that Tim had genuinely smiled at him, with no condescension or guile, because Damian had done something that made him happy, stayed prominent in his mind. In the end, the secret desire not to upset Alfred tipped the scales and he found himself heading to the dining room, swallowing some slight trepidation. 

It was a full house at the dinner table. All the usual suspects were in attendance, but this time Barbara and even Jason had shown up (due to some gentle guilt-tripping from Alfred, Damian assumed).

Dinner itself went surprisingly well. No major arguments, no food was thrown, the only silences were comfortable rather than awkward, and Jason only mentioned his own death once. An amazing and strange feat for their family.

After dinner, his father had stepped aside to take a phone call and Alfred was in the kitchen preparing to serve desert. Jason pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, pushing his chair back to go smoke on the patio. 

“That habit is disgusting, Todd.”

“Not as disgusting as your crush on the Replacement.” Jason replied with his trademark shit-eating grin. Damian felt his heart drop while a stunned silence fell over the table. Jason turned to look at Tim. “What, Timmy? You didn’t know? How could you not know? It’s pretty obvious. Aren’t you supposed to be the world’s second greatest detective?”

Damian, who had frozen in dread, couldn’t help but look over at Tim’s expression. His eyes were wide with shock, brows knitting together with confusion and something Damian couldn’t quite recognize but feared was dawning horror. Unable to stand looking at him anymore, he glared at Jason. “You have been spending too much time with Harper. It has clearly addled your mind.”

Damian must not have been entirely successful in clearing his voice of nervousness because Jason just laughed, “Sure, baby bat. That’s why you’ve been giving Tim heart eyes all night. You know, I thought I’d imagined it last time I saw you, on that undercover mission. No way was Damian al Ghul drooling over Timothy Drake. Not that I can blame you.” He leered at Tim. “He looked good as a mob boss’s arm candy, but -”

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense!” Damian declared and left the table, ignoring Dick calling after him. He was vaguely aware that he was running away but he wasn’t willing to suffer any further embarrassment. 

He couldn’t kid himself, though. No point in hoping that Tim hadn’t believed Jason. Tim knew. Everything was ruined now that his weakness had been revealed. And unlike in combat, he didn’t have a counterattack ready. A foolish mistake, he should have known someone in his family of detectives would find out eventually. He idly fantasized about just up and disappearing. Maybe he’d run away and join the circus. Dick should be able to get him in touch with someone, right? But he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t do that. He’d have to face this soon enough. 

Damian found himself cursing his younger, idiotic self. Maybe if he and Tim hadn’t had such a bad first impression, things would be different. Tim would see him differently. Maybe instead of being horrified at Jason’s revelation, Tim would have been happy. Maybe Tim would’ve wanted Damian.

There was a knock on Damian’s bedroom door, one that he was perfectly content ignoring, at least until it was Tim’s voice on the other side hesitantly calling his name. Time to face the music. Bracing himself for the worst (for Tim to tell him that he wasn’t interested in him, that he already had the clone, that Damian was too young, that they were brothers, that he still hated Damian, that he was an idiot and laugh in his face, etc.) he opened the door.

Tim was standing there, in a grungy green flannel shirt over a black tank top and loose-fitting jeans, looking awkward and uncertain. 

“Look, Damian…” Tim said, paused, then seemed to come to a decision. He put on an overly bright and fake smile. “Jason’s an idiot. I know better than to believe anything he says. It’s nothing but lies… right?”

“Oh… right.” Damian was thrown off for a moment, confused as to why Tim was being so deliberately and obviously obtuse. Then he recognized the offering for what it probably was. Tim was willing to pretend that nothing happened, that he didn’t know about Damian’s feelings, to spare him the pain of rejection. 

If it was anyone else he would say they were being cowardly. However, Tim was often times so callous that him actually taking Damian’s feelings into consideration was uncharacteristically sensitive of him. Damian almost wished Tim wasn’t trying to be so good about this, wished he could just be angry at Tim so he could at least feel a different, more familiar kind of awful. “Yes… yes, of course, Todd is an idiot. I am glad I’m not the only one who sees it.”

“Yeah… so we’re good, right?” Tim asked, a little awkwardly. 

“As ever.” Damian said, trying to ignore how every inch of his being ached for the man in front of him. 

Tim nodded, eyes full of regret, and gave Damian a sad smile (not the sunny one he had just started letting Damian see). He turned abruptly and left, the remains of Damian’s fragile heart slipping from his grasp. Shattering. 

Locking his bedroom door behind him, Damian collapsed onto his bed thinking that he should be angry, frustrated, upset, something. But he didn’t have the energy. He just felt resigned, almost numb, and disappointed in himself for allowing his weakness to be discovered. The only thing to do now was move on, like the foundations of the earth hadn’t just crumbled beneath him, even if he suspected that that might be impossible. 

Even if he couldn’t truly move on, if he could just act like he wasn’t bothered he might be able to keep his reputation somewhat intact. He just had to act like everything was normal, like his heart hadn’t just splintered into a million pieces. He and Tim were still brothers, that had to be enough. 

(It would never be enough).

He felt something soft brush against him and looked to see Alfred pawing at his hand. Damian let the cat situate himself on Damian’s lap, clearly trying to offer comfort, and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face against soft fur. 

And if some tears fell from Damian’s eyes? Well, Alfred would never tell a soul. And Alfred would always love him no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've finished in a decade, be gentle with me.


End file.
